Thursday, August 17, 2017



From my perch on the picnic table
I watch him step to the sunny core
of a verdant expanse in the park.
He unfurls a deep green blanket,
spreads it upon the grass, then sits centerstage,
perfect lotus position, hands
on kneecaps, eyes closed.
He is motionless, silent, peaceful.
Then he begins a chanting hum,
"harummm, harumm,"
and I envision a frog poised
upon a lily pad, chanting
a seductive love song
to yearning females within his domain.
I close my eyes and listen to his hum blend
with bird, cricket, wind, tree and stream,
and with frogs in the nearby pond.

Rose Lefebvre ©


  1. I enjoyed reading your poem.

    Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.

  2. Rose. Thanks for the poem. I have studied it over several times and, as if often the case with your work, I can't see a single word that needs to be changed. I watched the PBS special on W. S. Merwin last night and he said you know a poem is finished when you can't change a single word. Ron

  3. As I read your poem at first i laughted at your seeing him as a frog but in reality all men are like the frog looking to capture the attention of the female. Yes it was indeed a beautiful poem and no changes needed. Keep up the good work. Love Mom..

  4. this is lovely Rose. Have a wonderful weekend.

  5. Hi Rose, your poem is beautiful!! Love your new me photo on the side bar. Have a wonderful Labor Day weekend. Blessings